Raising Men
by MaraHeart
Summary: Harry and Draco are ready for the next step: having children. Correction: Harry is. Draco isn't so sure. So when a friend suggests they get a pet, they agree to see if they can keep it healthy alive for a year. HarryDraco slash. Some spoilers for DH.
1. Have You Tried Getting A Plant?

**Raising Men  
Chapter One: Have You Tried Getting A Plant?**

**AN**: Er, okay. This is the first Harry Potter fanfic I've posted. I enjoyed writing it. This wont be mpreg. It will be slash. There's your warning.

* * *

"But how do we know we're ready?" 

"How do we know we're not?"

"Because we're completely at a loss when it comes to children. Neither of us knows anything about them." Draco Malfoy argued. Really, two men such as themselves, with their _flavourful_ backgrounds, raising a child together?

"Neither of us knew anything about each other either and look how this turned out," Harry Potter fired back, frowning at his life partner. "And I do know some things. I've babysat Teddy and Victoire and Rose."

Draco scoffed. "Oh yes, that makes such a difference. Watching someone else's kid on a few scattered nights compared to being responsible for it full time? Why they're practically the same thing!"

"Don't be so sarcastic! I'm trying to be serious." Harry growled, turning his back and walking to the closet door. He braced himself against it, refusing to look at the blond.

"I am too," pouted Draco. "We can barely keep a plant alive." He gestured toward the plant on the bureau. It was looking rather pale and withered, its soil dull with roots poking out the bottom.

"It's a little harder to ignore a baby then it is a plant that doesn't make any noise." Harry replied, going to the plant and using his wand to water it. It almost sighed under the deluge of water.

"If that was all it took, we could have got a talking one!" Draco exclaimed, exasperated with the whole situation.

Harry looked at him in shock. "There are talking plants?"

He very nearly clapped his hand to his forehead. "That's beside the point."

"No, it isn't. A talking one would have bothered us until we took care of it." Harry explained, his eyes wide at the realization. "This is your fault for not telling me."

"Of for Merlin's sake! There are no talking plants!" Draco exploded, stalking form the room and the imbecile that made him question his sanity. Why on earth did he choose to stay with such a complete lackwit who knew nothing about the world he'd lived in for the past eighteen years?

"Then why did you tell me there were?" Harry demanded, following him into their small kitchen.

"It's called sarcasm. I use it a lot." Draco informed him, looking at him like he was a three-year-old. "In fact, you accused me of it not five minutes ago." He received a glare for his further efforts in the sport.

"Really, I'd never have guessed," Harry mocked, eyes narrowed. He stalked to the coldroom and pulled out a slab of saran-wrapped meat. He guessed it was steak and hoped he was right. When it was frozen, meat all looked the same to him.

Grabbing the package, Draco returned it to the room and pulled out the actual steaks. "Finally, you're getting it. And you can even use it on your own." Draco crowed, placing the meat in front of Harry on the counter top. Harry nodded at him.

"Teaching me bad habits, that's something to be proud of," Harry scowled, setting his wand to defrosting the meat.

"You had plenty of those on your own," Draco pointed out, fishing around in a cabinet for the pale of potatoes they kept there. Lugging it out, he hauled it onto the table. Sorting through it, he found four perfect potatoes. Placing them in the sink, he ran cold water over them, then set a stiff brush to rub them clean.

"So? You didn't need to add to them then," Harry shot, placing the thawed steaks into a non-stick frying pan. He lit the fire magically and watched as Draco placed the potatoes on the middle rack of their hearth. Casually he set that fire as well, ignoring the indignant 'hey!'

Snorting, Draco responded, "You do realize what you just said, don't you?" He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Harry to think it over.

Harry flushed. "Shut up." Spinning he began to ruffle through the contents of a shelf until he found the box of sliced mushrooms he was looking for. Grabbing it, he also found the olive oil. Putting both items on the counter, he summoned a skillet and placed some oil in it. He started heating it.

"That's another bad habit. Turning away from a fight." Draco gathered up garlic cloves and a sharp knife. Over a cutting board he sliced and diced quickly and efficiently.

"Really? I thought that was your forte." Returning to his steaks he flipped them over, glad they hadn't started to burn. He was want to set the fire to too high a temperature. He was always getting scolded for it.

Draco hummed and added the mushrooms and garlic to the oil. Picking out a tune, he stirred the mixture slowly, watching the process of caramelization start.

"Oh, ignoring me know are you? So mature," Harry muttered, flipping the steaks again. He set them back on the grill and moved to the fire place. The potatoes were browning nicely. They'd soon be done, he figured. He moved them around a little, making sure they weren't sticking to the bars.

Humming a little louder Draco removed his skillet from the flame and waved the fire out. Placing it back where it was, he covered it to keep the sauteed mushrooms warm. He did the same with the steaks Harry had left. They had started burning slightly, but that was easily scrapped off.

Next he summoned plates and flatware, glasses and napkins. He marched them into the dining room where they placed themselves in front of four of the six chairs. He banished the other two extra to the attic for the duration. Skirting the edge of the table, he made sure the pristine white table cloth hung evenly on all sides, that the snow-white plates where placed right, the heavy, highly polished silver cutlery was straight and in the right line up. Holding up each crystal wine glass, he made sure they shined to perfection. He had just declared everything satisfactory when Harry called out from the kitchen.

"Know what song your humming?"

Freezing. Draco let the last notes echo around him. Oh, crap! He moaned.

"That's right. It's _our song_!" Harry gloated, sending in the mushrooms and carrying the steaks in himself.

"Shut up!" Draco demanded.

"See, there's your old turncoat instinct coming out again!" Giggling Harry placed the final slice of meat on the last plate and circled to watch Draco dip his spoon into the pan and carefully poor out a decent amount of mushrooms on top of each steak.

"Grow up, Harry," Draco sighed. "See. This is exactly why we can't have kids."

"No, we can't have kids because we're both male." Harry corrected as they both went back into the kitchen. Harry nixed the fire on the hearth and split open each potato before sending it onto the waiting plates. He placed magical domes over each one so they stayed warm. Meanwhile, Draco started frosting a marble cake with dark chocolate frosting, which would add to the chocolate gel that sat between the two layers.

"You are a prat." Draco rolled his eyes. He was well aware that they both had the lack of feminine organs that made them men. He was quite all right with that fact. The thought of men having babies . . . he shuddered. Or Merlin forbid, one of them being a _girl_.

"You love me anyway." Harry stated arrogantly. He had retrieved a loaf of garlic bread from the pantry and started slicing it thickly.

"Sometimes I wonder," he murmured.

"I heard that," Harry warned.

"Who said you weren't supposed to?" Draco looked up, blinking innocent grey eyes.

"Jerk."

"Again this is why we aren't ready for kids." Draco tried again.

"Because we call each other names?" Harry asked, nearly cutting his finger off as he watched Draco lick the icing off his finger. "Dammit!"

"Watch yourself Harry. I have uses for those fingers." He winked and finished the cake off with a dollop of whipped cream and a strawberry,

"And that's appropriate while we're talking about our future kids?" he wondered, shoving the bread into a basket with a green napkin to match the others.

Draco covered the cake from pesky bugs. "Actually, I think it is." He smirked.

Harry caught on. "Get over yourself. That isn't what I meant and you know it."

"Maybe. Yet you have to see this kind of immature banter isn't going to stop anytime soon. It's what we do." Draco faced Harry head on, staring him in the eye.

"A baby wouldn't know what was going on until it was pretty old!"

"See, you don't even know how old a baby starts to talk or understand things!"

"I do too!" Harry's nose flared.

"Oh yeah? Prove it!"

The challenge issued from Draco's mouth just as Hermione and Ron Weasley poked their heads through the doorway.

"Prove what, mate?" Ron looked at Harry and then to Draco.

"That he knows-" Draco attempted to explain only to have Harry interrupt. He glared at him again, still to no avail.

Crossing swiftly to Hermione, Harry looked at her so solemnly she'd thought someone had died. He whispered, "Hermione, how old do most kids talk and understand it?"

Brows furrowed in curiosity, she whispered back, "It's different for every baby, but usually between two and five years of age."

"Thank you." He mouthed and turned back to Draco, who was watching him intently. "I can prove it. Between two and five!" he whooped proudly.

"Harry, you idiot. I just watched you ask Hermione that!" Draco shook his head. "And that's another reason. You're childish too."

"The child would be too, so we'd be evenly matched." Harry raised his chin.

"I won't be rasing two children." Draco said firmly.

"Given your way, you wouldn't even raise one!" Harry was pouting now.

Ron and Hermione looked between each other and the pair before them. They were completely confused.

"What are you two fighting over now? What child?" Hermione inquired, understanding, at least, that they were arguing about a kid. Whose kid and where it had come from, well, who was to say? Those two were notorious for the trouble they led home like stray dogs.

"The one we're having," Harry said it so simply and without hesitation that it shocked her into silence.

"You're having a baby?" The only thing she could think of was:_ How?_ Harry nodded.

"Hold on a minute." Draco stepped forward and raised his hands. "We aren't having a baby. Just discussing the option of it."

"You were the only one discussing it. I'm already decided." Harry gave him a look that said he wasn't backing down from the issue. Neither was Draco.

"I noticed that." he said dryly. Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

"When did this come about?" Ron asked, hoping to avoid further disruption to his supper. Harry and Draco always prepared such good meals.

"Today."

"Last week."

Draco and Harry glared at each other. If looks could kill. . . .

"Oaky," Ron decided he'd keep his mouth shut until they were served their food. Then he'd have to open it to eat.

"Why are you against it?" Hermione directed the question at Draco who didn't remove his eyes from where they were locked on Harry.

"Do you honestly think we're ready for kids?" he responded in disbelief. "Half the time you come over here we're 'discussing' something."

Knowing 'discussing' and 'arguing' were pseudonyms, Hermione nodded in agreement. "Perhaps a baby would . . . bring you closer?" Harry's expression turned triumphant as the suggestion was voiced.

Ron was frantically trying to mentally tell his wife to not get involved.

"No. I don't. Not now. We're both too set in our bickering ways." Draco shook his head again.

"Bickering isn't such a bad thing," Hermione acknowledged. "And you _are_ almost thirty.

"Twenty-eight is not almost thirty." Draco raised his nose in the air.

"Fine, fine. I don't know why I bother." Hermione raised her shoulders in defeat.

"Hermione," Harry drew out her name, a pleading light in his eyes. "Please, isn't there anything you can do to help us?" Even Draco was okay with something to bring them to a happy medium.

She thought and thought, chewing her lip, ruining her pink gloss in the process. It tasted like mangos, she noticed absently, which was funny because she thought it was called Candy Apple Clouds. Ron fretted behind her, worrying about the food getting cold with no one there to eat it.

Harry and Draco stood with batted breath, both wondering if it would be the end to their impasse or a bogus attempt to calm them down.

Finally she smiled. "Have you tried looking after a plant together?"

They groaned. "Yes, and you should see how that turned out." Draco washed a hand over his face. "If it had been a talking one," Harry trailed off, quelled at the look his boyfriend sent him.

"A talking plant? Honestly, Harry," Hermione closed her head and thought harder. When she opened them again she was lit up like a Christmas tree covered in fairy lights. "If you've already done the plant, then the next step is to get a pet!"

"A pet?" Draco, Harry and Ron asked incredulously.

"Are you serious?" Draco scoffed.

"How will that help?" Harry wondered.

"Have you been in George's special brownies again?" Ron asked, half serious.

"Yes I am. It's more demanding then a plant and requires more. No, I have not, Ronald, how could you even suggest such a thing?" Hermione rounded on each man in turn, bearing down on her husband. "He'd better not have any more special brownies or I'll tell Molly." She threatened.

They gulped.

"I'm sure he doesn't Herm, I was only joking." Ron backpedalled fast.

Studying each other, the paired off men thought and communicated on a plateau they never had before. Could a pet really help them? It would push of having a baby, but it would give them something to look after, and Harry a way to prove to Draco that they could care for a child. They nodded. They'd look into it, anyway.

Stepping into action, they once again surprised the Weasley's. "Take that bread and put it on the table, Harry. I'll get the wine." Striding from the room, Draco entered the wine cellar and withdrew a bottle.

When he returned, he poured everyone a glass and removed the spell on the plates. "Bless Merlin," The chorused and dug in, chatting about recent events and who was looking after their daughter, Rose.

Next to each other, Harry and Draco felt closer then ever, and if one of them had been right-handed and the other left, they would have held hands. They'd talk about it more later but they were sure they were on the right path again. This pet idea was a good one.

* * *

**AN:** So there it is. Enjoy it?

_Dislaimer: (This is to stretch for the entire story) I do not own any recognizable characters, locations or plots of the Harry Potter universe. Anything that isn't recognizable either belongs to someone else or is of my own creation._

MaraHeart.


	2. A Happy Medium

**Raising Men  
Chapter Two: A Happy? Medium**

* * *

Pacing around his bedroom, Harry sighed. Once again he and Draco had reached an impasse. This time, it was over what pet they should buy. With their completely different personalities, they each wanted different things from it. Draco wanted something refined, something that wasn't a complete bundle of energy, and which had good grooming habits. Harry wanted something that was lovable and cuddly and would romp around and play with abandon.

Read: Harry wanted a dog and Draco wanted a cat.

Having bad memories of the cats mauling him at Mrs. Figg's house, he was adamantly against bringing one into his house where it could shed to it's hearts content and claw up the furniture. Worse, it could possibly make the house smell like cabbage. He wasn't having it.

But neither was Draco having something that slobbered, smelled bad when it got wet, would chew his favourite shoes, and would never learn what the word 'no' meant.

After his best friends had left after the dinner, they had cleaned up and went to bed in a good mood. Sleeping together was always something Harry enjoyed. The intimacy it brought about was something he'd never had before. It was much more then the sharing they did while they were cooking, which was done with little communicating and more sensing. They knew what the other needed, and were always there to reach for it.

The next day, though, the arguments had started again. Fighting over which animal to get had taken a long time to get to, as first they'd had to narrow the list down. All sorts of magical creatures had come up, as well as muggle ones. Granted, Draco hadn't been to keen on them in any capacity, but he hadn't shot them down the moment they were broached. He'd thought about them–probably in distaste–and eventually they had decided that they weren't right for them.

Magical pets had been dejected too.

In the end they had settled for a short pile of names that were available in both the magical and muggle worlds. And as that one was shortened to two, the trouble had started. They couldn't seem to agree. That was nothing new. They never agreed on anything much, always reached some point in the middle. The only time they ever got on well was in the kitchen, or in . . . bed.

They hadn't gone to bed mad at each other that night. Learning early on that walking away and cooling down helped them with their relationship, they'd done it then. When they'd met back up at supper time they'd decided it was better to sleep on it.

Yet the next day, today, they'd gone right back to fighting. They'd even screamed so loud the neighbours had threatened to call in a case of domestic disturbance. Harry had barely gotten Draco inside and the door closed before he issued a threat and the Ramsey's reported the threat instead.

Why oh why was Draco so hotheaded? Why couldn't he just give in every once in a while and let Harry have his way? Did it break his pride that much to give in to needs that weren't his own? This whole problem could have been avoided if he'd just agreed to adopt a child. They'd both be so much happier with a little boy or girl, much more full.

No, that might not be fair. In all honesty he could understand the concern's. Thinking them all through a week ago, he'd decided they could handle them. Draco just couldn't see that they'd be great parents. And Harry just didn't want to wait until he was an old man before they brought someone else into their lives.

Though, what exactly was old when it came to wizards?

Sighing, he marched into his closet and threw off his clothes. Left in only a pair of boxers, he headed for bed.

Pausing by the slightly ajar door, he stared at it pensively. Draco was out there, somewhere, without him. He wasn't sure where he was, beyond in the house. That bothered him as much as going to sleep alone did. Shaking his head, the thought crossed his mind that maybe he should be the one to give in. After all, what he had to loose was more then he had to gain.

He pulled back the black comforter and light blue sheets covering his big bed and crawled in. He didn't pull the blankets over him, didn't lay down, just sat there, staring into the dim room. This just didn't feel right.

Getting back up he walked into Draco's closet. Yes, the man did need his own closet. He had to hang _everything_ up; shirts, pants, underwear, sweaters, ties, robes, jackets, socks. The only thing that wasn't hanging from a rack or a hook was his shoes, and they all had their own specialized shelves. Slanted with a little lift at the end so they wouldn't fall off.

Shucking his own boxers, Harry grabbed a pair of Draco's. The soft mango-coloured fabric fit him well, but never tell anyone he owned a pair of orange anything. It was too bright a colour for him, he said. Harry personally thought they looked great on him.

Closing the door he flung himself back into bed, burrowing under the covers. He rolled to face Draco's side, the one closest to the door, and reached a hand out to caress his blue pillow. It came away with a strand of blond hair and Harry grinned. Wouldn't he love to know that he was leaving hairs behind him? That would just set him off in a tizzy. Merlin forbid he even loose one strand of precious hair. In Malfoy reasoning, if he loses one strand, he's losing them all.

Putting his hand back on the pillow he allowed his eyes to close and his mind to picture Draco there next to him.

In the hidden workroom just behind the kitchen, Draco sat in a chair, staring at a desk laden with parchment. Each parchment was being gone through, angry red slashes being made through some equations, and glaring purple writing sudden ideas. Those added measurements and ingredients would probably be total crap in the morning. But what did it matter? It was all Harry's fault and Harry could be the one to have fun labouriously removing each ink stain.

Growling in frustration, he threw his quill, watching it over throw and fall to the floor. He growled again and slumped back in his seat.

Why the bloody hell couldn't Harry just give in on this one? He got his way in almost everything else, always had. Draco had moved to a muggle/wizarding world. He'd become friends with the Weasley's and Hermione Granger, who was incidentally now a Weasley. He rarely invited his old school mates over. Granted, that was partially because most of those old school mates would try and kill Harry and even Draco given half a good chance. Some of them were even in a newly modified Azkaban. An amazing number of those who hadn't been captured had fled the country.

Essentially cut off from his old life–besides his parents–Draco had capitulated to all Harry's requests after they'd gotten together. The initial proposal, Draco was proud to claim, Had come from his own mouth. And he did get to make the majority of the decorating decisions. Still . . .

A dog?

He couldn't believe Harry even tried to deny him the cat. He was doing this so they could get closer to the baby Harry wanted so desperately. He would end up getting his own way, and Draco couldn't say he'd really mind in the end. _If_ they could prove they were ready. Yet Harry still had to put up a fight over what stupid pet to choose.

This was all so overrated!

Was it possible for them to go back to a week ago when Harry had apparently gotten the idea in the first place? Were they able to go back to when Harry had first brought the subject up? If they could, he'd darn well like to. He wanted to fix this. He'd do anything to make it better. Except give in one the baby and cat. If Harry wanted one he had to have the other. With the new rules anyway.

Perhaps asking Hermione hadn't been quite a good idea. It had been the only way he'd seen at the time though.

Two days ago was all he needed to return to. He'd make a deal with Harry. If Harry waited one more year they could get all the kids he wanted. Just one more year alone. One more year alone for Draco to bring up his proposition. The one that would make their lives so much more full.

Harry had never considered it. He knew he hadn't. That brain was too caught up in what new concoctions they could find, what new mixture would taste great and what would taste horrible. The man cared too much about what they were doing and not what they could be doing. Or how good they could be when they took this to a whole new step.

As it was he just wasn't ready to bring it up. He hadn't planned it all out yet. He needed all the corresponding pieces to be lined up before he even attempted to talk to Harry about it. If he did it any time soon, the git would likely try and bargain. A baby for his agreement. How ludicrous did that sound?

Ah, but Harry's mind was a wonder. No one quite understood it. Draco was as close as they came to getting inside it. Sometimes he didn't want to be. Because he could see Harry's every motivation, it wasn't always in him to be as ruthless as he wanted to be.

That was all right. Harry meant a lot to him. In the end , they'd end up with everything they both wanted. A baby, a bigger house, a new business . . . the world was open to them. It all just took time. A concept Harry Potter didn't comprehend much about.

Standing up, Draco lazily waved his wand and sent his papers into a folder and then into a cabinet where they kept all their important papers. Stretching his muscles out, he left the room, blowing the candles out as he went.

Methodically he went from room to room, making sure any candle that was lit was cooled off. He took one from the living room and used it to light his way down the hallway. It was eery. There were no noises and he wondered what Harry was up to. He was never this quiet unless he was up to something.

The flame glared on the glass of a picture frame and drew Draco up short. It was a picture of Harry and Draco at a picnic the Weasley's had held a year or so ago. With a background of a pond, trees, green, green grass and blue sky, Harry and Draco stood in each other's arms, occasionally teasing one another. They looked so in love. Draco smiled softly. As loathe as he was to admit it to Harry, he really could picture a little child running around their feet, tempting them into a game of tag. Maybe he'd even run into the pond with the myriad of red-headed Weasley children, chase a duck or two.

His smile increased. He rather liked the idea.

He left the frame, and paused at the bedroom door. It wasn't closed like he thought it would be. Half open, it invited him in, showing him Harry cared despite the latest upset. He'd never really doubted he did, but he rarely stopped himself from thinking that Harry would leave his high maintenance boyfriend in the dust one of these days.

When he saw the black-haired boy laying in the bed, sheets thrown of his upper body and tangled around his long legs, he had to give himself a mental shake for even entertaining such thoughts. Harry, sleeping curled against Draco's pillow, on Draco's bright boxers, was the warmest thing he'd ever seen.

Taking of his clothes quietly so as not to disturb him, he left himself on only red briefs. Approaching the bed, he lightly pushed Harry over until he could crawl in bed with him. Blowing out the candle he threw it to the floor. He removed the pillow from Harry's arms, replaced it with himself.

In the back of his mind he could see two other beings joining the family picture his mind had developed. Staring into his closed eyes, Draco whispered, "What have you done to me, Harry?" He was amused with himself. Usually it was Harry catering to him, not the other way around.

"Draco . . ." Harry muttered, face scrunching in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm being quite." he yawned.

"Are not," Harry snuggled closer, already drifting back into sleep.

* * *

**AN:** This . . . is not the best. I'd originally had them arguing madly again, but this happened instead. Oh, well. It's not _that_ bad. This was supposed to be posted tomorrow night or the night after that. but I'm going to my aunt's cabin for a couple days. So, here it is.

_Reviewers:  
Alhena-Antares-Alya: Thank's for thinking i'm great. Let's hope this chapter doesn't diminish your opinion of me.  
xoxintense: While that's a good idea, this story is based around Harry and Draco dealing with the responsibility of a pet . . . at lest for now that's all it's about.  
Rika'sGrayWolf: Hopefully I will have a new chapter out within a week of posting the last one. This one is way early because I felt like writing it._

:)  
MaraHeart.


	3. Developing Picture

**Raising Men  
Chapter Three  
Developing Picture**

* * *

Harry was gone by the time Draco woke up. He usually was. Ever since he and Ron had taken it upon themselves to reorganize the whole auror department without anyone else's consent, Harry had been given the worst shifts imaginable. And either the most boring ones or the most dangerous ones. Those were usually sprung on him after weeks of monotony, after weeks of desk work or lame assignments. His hours shifted from not long to all day and night.

Draco hated it. He had to wake up alone, Harry's side already cold from the departure of his body heat. He had to wake up alone with no one there to talk to, with no one to hold him. He hated being alone.

He loved the breakfasts Harry made him as an apology though. They were delicious. Harry never scrimped on it. Bacon and eggs and toast, muffins, bagels, fruit or a banana. Most scrumptious was his pastries. Flaky on the outside, glazed with honey or icing, and a gooey centre of chocolate or apple filling.

Seeing the covered tray in the mornings made him smile. This was not in the least caused by the way Harry insisted on arranging the food. Always it was shaped into a face. A smiley face. Always, always, that face. Artfully designed in an impossible way because it wasn't normal to make a food-face that looked that good. Food should be placed on a plate with elegance and not for fun, in a way that suited you or put where there was an empty space.

He was picky when it came to meals. More picky then even over his looks. And Harry completely disregarded that fact. It was as annoying as it was endearing.

Rising from his bed, Draco took of his boxers and dropped them to the floor. Who cares where they landed? He had things to do. Conundrums to solve. Showers to have. Hey, cleanliness is next to godliness.

The water was piping hot when he stepped into the glass-enclosed shower. The bathroom was done in teals and pale oranges. Harry's idea, colours close to gold and green, what they were both used to. Scrubbing himself_-using his wand to get the washcloth to scrub him-_clean, he planned out his day. Shower, dress, eat, do paperwork, shop . . . they were his immediate issues. Maybe clean a little. He wasn't sure if the house needed it or not. But Harry had probably made some kind of mess when he got up that he hadn't cleaned.

Stepping out from under the water, steam billowed out and around the room, escaping into the hall through the open door. The water slowly turned off on it's own. Draco left the room as well, not bothering with the towels Harry set out for him to use. Small puddles of water formed as he passed back into the bedroom and into his closet.

Unlike Harry's it was walk-in and everything was organized neatly. He turned to face the back of the closet and the large mirror there. It was behind a sort of sitting area, similar to those found in old style closets. Nothing was obstructing his view and he cast a charm that baked his skin dry. He watched the moisture disappear and then started the delicate process of drying his fine hair so it didn't frizz.

When it was finally completely dry and laying in white-blond sheets around his face, he set about getting dressed. He studied his wardrobe, a frown marring his countenance. Yes, he was going out in public later on, but he was also going to be lounging around, doing the things it took to run a house hold.

In the end he settled on a pair of medium-toned blue jeans and a deep purple, long-sleeved shirt. He found it kind of amusing when he reached for a particular pair of boxers only to find them missing. The only reason he could think of was Harry had stolen them. He smirked. Either that or the dry cleaner was _really_ interested in him. And that just made him smirk more.

He was fine looking after all. Even more so.

Shrugging he slipped on a pair of light and dark green checkered ones, then the rest of his clothing. He looked back into the mirror to see the overall effect. It was quite all right. Giving his hair one last primp, went back into the main area.

In sequence, he levitated the tray to the living room, watered the plant that it had been next to, and vanished the wet spots on the floor.

Following his breakfast Draco debated whether or not to use his magic to get everything to start cleaning itself yet. All that magic would cause the television to stop working though. It was a rule in the house to not use magic near the den. They liked their tv.

He veered from the trays path long enough to retrieve the Daily Prophet from the owl box at the back of the house and the local news paper from the front step. Settling into the dark grey chesterfield, he lifted his feet to the ebony coffee table. He pointed the food to his lap and the glass into a hover off to the side. Draco turned on the tv and flicked the channel until it was on one of those talk shows were the main concern was paternity. Putting the volume on minimum, he snapped open the Prophet first because that generally had the most boring news.

Draco wouldn't admit it, but muggles worried about and got into some of the most interesting scandals he'd ever heard tell of. He slowly worked his way through his meal, and the news, in between exclamations directed at the show. Really, he wondered where some of those people came from. It was scripted, he was sure of it. No one would lower themselves to sleep with twenty guys around the same time would they?

Then again, plain acting it out just for money was pretty demeaning as well, if you asked him. Few did. He obliviated anyone who came near to knowing he actually watched this crap. Harry barely even knew, and he was certainly the only who Draco would let know it. One couldn't very well go around using a memory charm on their spouses. If you thought about it, it would explain some things though. It would be interesting to do a study on how many people did just that, and for what reason.

Anonymously, of course.

When all (or most) of the babies had found their daddies, and the news read, and his tummy was full, Draco banished the remains to their appropriate places and shut the television off. Systematically he worked his way through the house, spelling objects into their proper locations, and other objects to get about cleaning the place. When everything was finally set to order, he went back to his workshop, which was really just a de-glorified office. He and Harry used it for just about everything.

An hour went by, wasted as he stared into space, chewing his lower lip lightly and tapping his quill against the scarred face of the desk. His brow furrowed and his foot bounced up and down. When that hour flew passed Draco stood up, frustrated with himself. He slammed the door open and shut again. This whole stupid argument with Harry over babies and pets was completely and utterly pointless.

And if someone didn't do something about it soon they might not be able to recover from it. No matter there well meaning attempts.

Summoning a khaki jacket from the hall closet, he threw it on and hid his wand in his pocket. He stalked from the house, barely pausing to lock it up.

* * *

Working for the man was a total pain in the behind, Harry decided as he trudged up the walk to the small single-floor house he and Draco had bought together. All he'd done all day was run back and forth between departments getting permission to run back and forth between departments. 

It was a rat race and he was the rat. Now if only there had been cheese at the end . . .

All the curtains were pulled tightly shut against the cloudy August evening. He had to wonder at that. What on earth was Draco up to in there? As he got closer to the door, he thought he heard scuffling, but when he looked around him, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. From across the street, a neighbour called out to him. Harry waved back.

The door opened at his touch, and Harry froze for a moment on the threshold. Why, if all the curtains were shut, were all the lights on? It wasn't like they didn't have privacy charms on the windows. Oh man, what kind of mess was Draco getting himself into this time?

The last time something like this had been going on, Draco had been coming up with the 'best recipe for chocolate-strawberry cake in the entire galaxy.' The more Draco worked on it, the more paranoid he became that someone was trying to steal it from him. It had taken two weeks for Harry to wrestle the thing from his grip, one more for the paranoia to fade away.

Maybe they should invest in a trip to the psychiatrist after all.

Tugging his red auror tie loose, he threw off his cloak. About to call out for his boyfriend, he was interrupted by a very undignified screech. Fear overwhelming him for a moment, Harry rushed in the direction of the noise.

Once in the kitchen, he surveyed he area for damages and injured people. There weren't any. What there was, was Draco Malfoy with what looked like a fishing line with a ball and feather on the end, on his hands and knees next to the counter. All the doors to the built-in cabinetry were wide open, and the pots and pans and other knick-knacks that were usually neatly arrange on the shelves were shoved around, spilling out onto the floor.

He watched in amazement as Draco cursed and plunged the line back into the depths of the storage space. He jiggled it up and down, the sound of a bell chiming. Echoing that was the sound of a hiss, then a sharp _yip_.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, what the hell did you do?" he demanded, his face scrunching up in anger. He stalked closer to him, looking menacing. Not that Draco noticed, he was too busy tugging on the pole, jerking it back and forth.

"Oh, hi, Harry," Draco spared him a glance. His complexion was red, his hair a mess. He puffed air out of his mouth, dispelling a lock out of his face and back to the side where it belonged.

"Don't 'oh, hi, Harry' me. _What did you do?_" Harry reiterated, folding his arms across his chest. If he'd done what he thought he had, he'd be sleeping on the couch for the rest of their natural lives.

"I didn't do anything. If anybody would have informed me they wouldn't get along, and would fight like, well, cats and dogs," he seemed to be mumbling to himself by this point, his arm still jabbing the fishing line in and out of the cubby. "I wouldn't have bought them. Well, I probably still would have. For you, anyway. Not if this had been my choice. You'd better be happy now. 'Cause this is as much your fault as it is theirs."

"Whose fault is it? What are you talking about?" Harry was completely confused but he wasn't going to let that stop him. "I had nothing to do with this. Whatever you went and bought you did it all on your own."

"If you hadn't started this whole thing about babies" grunted Draco, as he tugged back particularly hard.

Horror overcame him. "Please, _please_, tell me you didn't _buy a baby_!"

Draco reared back, shock overriding the triumph expressed on his features. "Of course I didn't. What do you take me for? You honestly think I'd go out and spend my money on a baby that could have _anyone's_ genes?" He reached his other hand, which had until then been resting on the floor to help him keep his balance, into the cabinet along with the other one.

"So if it had the right pureblood genes you would?" Harry sneered.

"No! That isn't what I meant." Draco growled. "I wouldn't buy _anyone's_ baby. I' go through the nice long legal paperwork of adopting one, or the uncertainness of surrogacy."

Harry sighed in relief. Until he realized, if he hadn't bought a baby, he had definitely bought something else in town today. He had a sinking feeling that it hadn't been a lawn mower or a new frying pan. "What did you buy, then?"

Draco looked at him, gauging his mood. He looked like he'd calmed down, at least. That was a good thing. Granted it most likely wasn't calm enough for this latest shock. Straightening his shoulders as much as he could in his bent over position, he took in a deep breath and stood up. Turning around he introduced, "Harry, meet your new . . . cat."

Oh. Hell. That wasn't what was supposed to come out! It was a cat. But, oh, how Harry was going to kill him.

"Draco, you had better be kidding and you're just watching it for the little girl down the street, or you'll so regret it." Harry warned through clenched teeth. He started looming in on Draco again. Draco would have been more scared if he didn't have a hissing and spitting furball clenched firmly in both hands that was currently trying to bite and claw his way to freedom.

"No, I'm not kidding. I just thought . . . that the other one went in there." Draco was confused. If the cat was in there-

"The other what?" he interrupted Draco's pondering, demanding satisfactory answers to his questions.

"The other-"

And then their was a loud crash from the direction of the living room.

* * *

**AN:** Well . . . another chapter spun out. Took awhile. But, here it is. Could have been better but that's how I feel about everything I do. Hn. Wanna review? Huh? Do ya? 

Thanks to all who reviewed. I appreciate it.


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